


Repatriation

by Petra



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Green Arrow
Genre: Masturbation, Other, Piercing, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:03:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy needs something better to do to his body than run until he can't stand, shoot until he can't feel his fingers, drink until he doesn't care that he's in agony from all the working out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repatriation

**Author's Note:**

> Piercings/needle play for Kink Bingo.

  
Roy doesn't know a lot of people with piercings through any of the kinds of work he's gotten paid to do legally, and they're not the in thing in Ollie's social set. Sure, he's known plenty of people on the wrong side of the law, but mostly he's been on the right side of it.

At least until he isn't. Until Ollie gives up on him, until all he has left is himself and his horrible tremors, and a little bit of Hal, and a little bit of pity from Dinah, every now and then. He can't stand himself for weeks, can barely stand to be alive.

When he gets most of the way out of the other side of that, he needs something better to do to his body than run until he can't stand, shoot until he can't feel his fingers, drink until he doesn't care that he's in agony from all the working out.

Nobody says, "Hey, Harper, stick some metal through your flesh," but he finds himself in a bar where no one knows him, staring at the bartender's nose ring and eyebrow ring, and thinking about it. He isn't going to try to take anybody's cultural stuff--Broad Bow would kick his ass if he tried--and he's lost all his roots.

In another life, last year, he would've gotten ink of an arrow, something big and obvious, and called it good. But not that, not now. If he's going to have someone draw permanent things on his body, he has to figure out what they're going to be, and he doesn't know how to say "Roy Lives Here" in big letters. And when he thinks about trying just that, keeping it plain, he can hear Dick making a horrified noise in his little thirteen-year-old voice, back in the day, saying something about secret identities. He'd have a point, somewhere in there, which is why Roy tends to listen to Dick more than he'll admit to.

So he goes for plain, simple steel. Stuff nobody who's not up close and personal's going to see, something he'll feel every time he pulls a bow: right through the nipples.

They've never done him much good before, but after--oh, after--

They hurt like a bitch, but Roy's been hurt in weirder ways, and they've got nothing on a frost ray or being held upside down and swung until all his blood's in his head. He swears under his breath, but that's all, and the heavily tattooed girl doing the piercing grins at him. "You're a natural."

She can see half his scars, so she knows that's pretty close to true.

"Thanks," Roy says, and doesn't give her the kind of answering smile that means, "Take me home and fuck me." He wants a little time alone with his body, now that he's reclaimed it, before he lets anybody else play.

She frowns slightly, disappointed, and runs him through the sterilization and cleaning procedures for the third time. He can recite them. They're not that far off from plain old wound care, except for the part about keeping the little rings in until they're healed. That's easy enough.

"So, you know, call if you have questions." She gives him half of her earlier grin, like she's hoping he'll maybe change his mind.

Maybe he will.

"Thanks."

He goes home--his home, that he picked out himself, that he's paying the rent on himself, and fuck you, Ollie--closes the bedroom door, and stands in front of the mirror in his room to look at them.

It hurts to play with them--too soon, too harsh, too sharp--and then it hurts just right to play with them, with a hand on his cock and watching the way they move in the mirror, the way they twist and shift a little under his fingers. Delicate gauge, nothing that'll show under a shirt or even under his body armor, not the thickness he's been wearing. Slim but deadly, like arrow shafts, going right through him, like the pain-pleasure goes right down his spine and makes him shout.

Roy leans his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror and tweaks harder, feeling the slide of the metal between his fingers, so different from the heat of his cock. Some other time he'll explore all the highs and lows, but he can't draw this out, not now. It's too immediate, too new, too strong, and he's coming, jerking himself hard and tugging one ring, then the other, until the pain nearly whites out the pleasure and amplifies it all.

He comes back to himself with water standing in his eyes and a mess on the mirror. The piercings are bleeding a little and could use a good cleaning. So could the rest of him, but he's all his again, for the first time since he put on a uniform someone else designed.


End file.
